


Sexting with a Friend

by heathicorn



Category: The Mindy Project
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-12
Updated: 2014-02-12
Packaged: 2018-01-12 01:55:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1180546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heathicorn/pseuds/heathicorn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>based on a prompt by drew, a sort-of-AU of 'You've Got Sext' where Danny doesn't know Mindy doesn't have her cell phone with her when he lets her spend the night at his apartment, and Morgan and Peter accidentally mistake Danny's number for Cliff's and start sexting him instead of Cliff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sexting with a Friend

When Mindy suggests she spend the night at Danny's place, there's a moment where he can't tell if she's really just asked him that or if he might have imagined it, because it seems too outlandish and strange and inappropriate, but also, and perhaps more worryingly—extremely enticing. Yes, his relationship with Mindy is by his own definition a professional one; he's not sure how far it extends beyond the office walls, but he feels comfortable calling her a friend. The definition of that term is loose at best for him, and Danny's never been one to have an abundance of female friends in the first place, so if he's being honest with himself, he's not entirely sure what a female friendship would look like to him.

He looks at Mindy with an affection reserved for few people in his life, a mixture of protectiveness and wonderment at how someone so completely different than him in so many ways can understand him so easily and so completely. She just _gets_ him, and some days he finds it unnerving because he can't sneak anything past her the way he usually can with everyone else. It's like she's got him under a microscope, like he's transparent and all she has to do is take one look at him and she's got him completely figured out. He doesn't like to dwell on how much he's come to care about Mindy over the last few months, especially since her return from Haiti. If he thinks about it too long, he starts to get an uncomfortable twisting feeling in his gut, like his insides are drawing themselves into Gordian knots, and it won't go away until he finds something else to occupy his thoughts.

“Come on Danny, please?”

Danny protests but Mindy won't hear any of it; she reminds him her wallet and keys are missing, so she has no way to get into her apartment, and the pathetic look she's giving him is so adorable he honestly can't figure out how he's supposed to say no to her anymore. He finally relents, agreeing to let her stay over but only after she's listened to and repeated his list of unbreakable rules for staying at his apartment.

There's a moment where Mindy confides in him that she has feelings for someone who works in their building, that Morgan thinks they'd be great together, that he's out of her league. A wave of panic crashes over him. He doesn't like jumping to conclusions, especially when Mindy's involved—but something in the softness of her voice and the way she's standing close to him makes him wonder...is she talking about _him_?

And he immediately feels a rush of embarrassment, unsure if it stems from the fact that he'd almost egotistically assume Mindy would have feelings for him, or if it's because his heart beat in an astounding two-step at the idea of her wanting him, choosing him, pining for him. He shakes his head, convinces himself it's all in his imagination, but there's a niggling sense of 'what if?' What if Mindy _was_ talking about him, and now she's spending the night in his apartment? What does that mean?

“And last but not least, coasters, coasters, coasters,” she repeats with a grin as they walk up the front steps to his building, apparently completing her recitation of his overnight dealbreakers while he was caught up in his own thoughts.

“I've made a huge mistake, haven't I?” He says, almost more to himself than to Mindy, holding the front door open for her.

“This is going to be the best sleepover ever, Danny. Just you wait.”

He feels that familiar knot in his stomach taking form and is almost grateful for the terrifying distraction of his neighbor bombarding them with questions about why Danny never called her back. Mindy masterfully (and dramatically) carries them along in a captivating lie about how she and Danny are madly in love, engaged, and expecting their first child, and for a fleeting moment Danny almost allows himself to believe the story himself. He looks at her with the eyes of a man in love, enjoys the comfortable weight of her fingers laced through his own, and feels the faintest pang of hope when she says their fictitious child is going to be a boy. He mentally kicks himself for wondering what Mindy would want to name him—probably Michael, after that ridiculous german actor she's always fantasizing about—and quickly chastises himself. _Focus up Castellano. You've got at least another 12 hours of this, and you're acting like a confused teenager._

\---

Danny wishes he could turn off the part of his brain that seems to be entirely fixated on the idea of Mindy being attracted to him—he interprets every gesture, every small laugh or touch as some subtle sign that he must decipher to understand how she really feels about him. When his neighbor returns and they have to resume the 'fake fiancee with child' ruse, it's almost too much; it feels like a giant gag at his expense, like Mindy's testing how far she can push him. He's not sure what parts of it are real, what comments are just Mindy joking around, or if any of it is laced with some genuine, nervous desire on her part. He's getting a headache over-thinking it all, and when once again challenged to prove their fake relationship is real, it's all so muddled up that he almost shouts that it has to stop—

And that's when he feels Mindy in his arms. She fits into the crook of his shoulder so naturally, it's like that space was carved out just for her. He feels it in the instant their bodies connect, the first touch of his fingers skimming across her sweatshirt-covered-shoulder-blades, this isn't how he felt about his other female friends. He never held them like this, never dreaded the thought of letting them go the way he thinks of Mindy right now. It's such a startling feeling—the wholeness of her beside him, arms wrapped around him—that all he can do is pull her in closer, hug her tighter, kiss the top of her head, and try to ignore the thoughts demanding _what does this mean?_

“Okay, this is real. Danny never looked at me like that.”

It's like an electric current shooting straight through him.

Mindy's the first to pull away, turning to excuse Amy and muttering about how she definitely doesn't look pregnant and it's just the bulk of her sweatshirt, an optical illusion, really—but Danny's feet are planted firmly to the spot where he stood holding her, a crushing wall of anxiety toppling over him. _This is real,_ repeats on a loop in his mind, only to be silenced when Mindy interrupts him by tugging at his elbow.

“Can you believe that? She totally bought it!” She's beaming at him, hand raised and awaiting a high-five.

“Yeah...imagine that.” Danny says feebly and reciprocates with a nod.

“I mean she really thought we were a couple. I knew I was a good actor but I honestly did not have high expectations for you, Daniel, especially seeing how you froze up doing the weather for the news? But you really pulled out all the stops. You almost had even me convinced!”

Danny makes his way to the kitchen and pours himself a glass of water, chugging it greedily as Mindy continues.

“I'm gonna miss little Danny Jr.,” she says with a smile, absentmindedly patting her stomach.

As Danny starts choking on a gulp of water, she glances up and nods. “Oh yeah, I figured we could name the baby after you, you know. I just figured most Italian people from Jersey like calling their kids Junior? Like, 'Ey, C'mere Junior!'” She laughs and mimes through a terrible Jersey accent that Danny finds frustratingly endearing.

He dumps his water in the sink and tries to force a laugh.

“Right, well, thanks for your help with that, Mindy. I guess that's your way of repaying me for sleeping over, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess so!” Mindy's making a move for the couch, seeming to have finally given up and accepted Danny's insistence that he keep his own bed. He gently stops her by grabbing the pillow from her and touching her wrist.

“C'mon, you earned it,” he says, nodding to his own bed.

“Danny, I'm not sure how to say this but...you know we're not _actually_ engaged, right? I'm not gonna sleep with you, convincing as my performance may have been.” She's smiling playfully, clearly enjoying herself.

Danny feels a flush creep up his neck and throws the pillow on the sofa, brushing past her.

“I meant you can have my bed! I'll take the couch, obviously.”

“Obviously,” she repeats, trying to mimic his indignant tone. “Fine, thanks Danny. How very chivalrous of you.”

He flops onto the cushions, refusing to look at her and simply waving over his shoulder..

“Yeah yeah, sleep well.”

“Thanks. Night, _darling_ ,” she says the last word with syrupy affection, too much for even herself as she dissolves into a giggle and she pulls the bedroom doors closed behind her.

\---

“We really shouldn't go through Mindy's things, Morgan,” Peter says in a tone of unconvincing seriousness, to which Morgan merely snorts and continues rifling through Mindy's newly-discovered purse.

“It's just Dr. L's stuff, what could she possibly have in here that she wouldn't want us to see?”

Peter pulls out a padded bra and raises a brow. Morgan tugs it away and tucks it neatly into his undershirt, as if that's the natural place for Mindy's bra to go. He shrugs and says, “for safe-keeping.” Peter just makes a turtle-face and continues rifling through the bag, eventually pulling out her cellphone.

“Let's see if there's anything interesting in here!” He says, eyes bright with interest. Thankfully Mindy doesn't have a passcode lock on the phone, so within a few swipes Peter is scrolling through Mindy's recently received messages. He stops on a particularly interesting contact, and opens the message thread, fixating on the most recent messages:

>   _ **received 11:12 a.m.** _  
> _**Handsome Jerk:** don't forget we agreed not to tell anyone else about this_  
>  _**Handsome Jerk:** meet you at the elevators after work_

“Huh, I wonder who this is,” he says, showing the phone to Morgan. He immediately gasps dramatically and alternates between pointing at the phone and Peter.

“Oh my god, oh my god do you know who this is?”

“No?”

“Cliff! It's totally Cliff! This explains why Mindy was such a dweeb in the elevator when we were leaving work—she thought she was going to see Cliff alone and seduce him, but instead he showed up with the runner up to Miss Universe. Oh my god, poor Mindy.”

“You know what we have to do, right?”

“Set his office on fire?”

“.....no, I was going to say pretend to be Mindy and seduce him via texts so that Mindy ends up with Cliff and I can comfort and/or have sex with the distraught Miss Universe chick.”

“Okay, I'm not sold on the second part but I'm with you on the first part! Although, it seems a bit wrong to send raunchy texts to Cliff...I mean, isn't that inappropriate?”

“Morgan, Morgan, Morgan...since when has being appropriate been a major concern of yours?”

“Yeah, you're right., never And besides, it's for Dr. L's own good, right? Let's do this. Sext away.”

\---

Danny rolls over onto his stomach and groans into the sofa. He's spent the last fifteen minutes trying to will himself to stop thinking all sorts of thoughts about Mindy; his head is swimming and the smell of her shampoo is lingering on his clothes and making him dizzy.

His phone abruptly buzzes on the coffee table. Danny fumbles for it, quickly skimming the message. He does a double-take, eyes adjusting to focus on the bright screen in the dark. It takes several re-reads for the message to process, after which he checks and recheck who sent it, because he doesn't quite believe it.

>   _ **received 12:51 a.m.**_
> 
> _**Mindy Lahiri:** what are you wearing?_

 Maybe it's the fact that he's already been reading into everything too much that night, but the message seems uncharacteristically provocative. He sucks in a sharp breath and shouts, “Yeah, really funny Min.”

 It takes a moment for her to respond with a soft, "What?" She sounds like either she was half-asleep or is trying to sound disinterested. He can't be sure.

 "You know what!" he says impatiently, re-reading the text one more time to be sure it came from her phone.

 "No I don't," she says innocently, the door closed and Mindy out of sight.

Danny pauses. What's she doing here? The message definitely came from her phone, so the simplest explanation is that he's reading too much into a simple question, though it seems unlikely. After much debating, he responds:

>   _**sent 12:55 a.m.  
>  Danny:** You obviously know what I'm wearing_

A brief pause before a speedy response.

>   _ **received 12:57 a.m.** _
> 
> _**Mindy Lahiri:** ….sooooo nothing?_
> 
> _**Mindy Lahiri:** ;) _

His breath hitches and he runs a hand through his hair. This is bad. This is _very_ bad.

He's not sure what's happening here—she's not admitting to sending the messages, but maybe that's her own nerves? It took guts to send the message in the first place, and maybe she's second guessing herself. Or maybe, he counters, she's testing him? Playing a game of sex-chicken with him like they did when he offered to be her gynecologist. Proving they both don't feel anything, pushing each other to the limit and seeing who blinks first. Calling his bluff?

Fine. Two can play that game.

>   _**sent 1:03 a.m.  
>  Danny:** in your dreams _

Silence. An agonizing minute passes before his phone buzzes and he snatches it off the coffee table, greedily reading the text.

>   _**sent 1:05 a.m.** _  
> _**Mindy:** but actually tho_  
>  _i've dreamt abt u naked ;)_

And this is when Danny starts to sweat. Not a panic sweat, not nerves and discomfort pooling at his underarms or palms—it's small beads collecting at his temples, the nape of his neck. All he can hear is the muffled sound of the television coming from his bedroom, and he's trying increasingly hard not to imagine Mindy sprawled out lazily over his covers. He knows this is dangerous ground—if he responds to this, he's jumping over the edge of a very steep cliff, risking more than he cares to consider. But there's something else compelling him now, more than just a stubborn will to not be proven more shy, or the hesitation that not playing along indicates some unspoken feeling of latent desire. He's done over-thinking. He's not thinking about anything anymore except for what to say next.

>   _ **Danny:** maybe one of these days you'll see it in person  
> _
> 
> _**Mindy:** sooner rather than later I hope_
> 
> _**Danny:** ladies first_
> 
> _**Mindy:** fyi im not wearing any panties right now_

Danny's eyes widen. He whispers a swear rolled into a quiet laugh, his pulse quickening. _This shouldn't be this hot, this shouldn't be this hot this shouldn't be this hot this shouldn't be this hot—_ he's half hard already and it's embarrassing because what the hell is he doing _sexting Mindy Lahiri_ when she's literally no more than 10 feet away from him, their only barrier a flimsy set of doors? He's not sure if this self-criticism is more directed at the fact that he shouldn't be sexting her in the first place, or that if he's determined to exchange provocative messages with her why wouldn't he just go into his own bedroom and show her himself what he looks like naked?

His phone buzzes quietly again and Danny argues with himself, _read it, don't read it, answer it, don't answer it._

>   _**Mindy:** tell me what u would do if you were here with me in bed right now_

“....shit,” he mouths, gaping at the message.

Danny puts the phone down and runs his hands through his hair, exhaling through his nostrils. He braces his hands on the back of his neck, trying and failing to fight the urge to touch himself as the phone glows in front of him. Just as he swallows and starts to slip his hand past his waistband, the doors to his bedroom creak and Mindy pokes her head in just as he scrambles to look natural.

“Before I forget...” her voice is quiet and she's already shed her bulky Columbia sweatshirt to reveal a light pink t-shirt that hugs her in a vastly distracting way he normally might not notice.

“I just wanted to thank you, seriously, for letting me stay here tonight. This was really nice.”

He's trying to control his breathing, but he's flushed and she seems to notice.

“Hey...you okay Danny?”

It takes some effort to say yes when she looks so composed, almost groggy. She's definitely screwing with him, and the truly frightening thing is that he's enjoying it. He's enjoying it _a lot._

“Yeah, yeah I'm good. Don't mention it.”

She smiles and waves, saying a quick 'goodnight' over her shoulder as she retreats back into his bedroom. He collapses onto his back, staring upwards and tracing the outlines of imaginary countries in the ceiling, trying to will away his Mindy-induced boner. He chuckles quietly at the thought that only hours ago he had dreaded the idea of Mindy confessing she had feelings for him, and now...

Now his stomach is doing flips and his head is swimming but a _good_ kind of swimming, and his stomach is a pit of warmth and somehow those flips are pleasant. He won't go so far as to say he's got butterflies, but he does get the distinct feeling that maybe there's a sort of fluttering sensation there but he won't admit it it's even remotely butterfly-like. Something smaller, less aggressive. Maybe lady bugs.

He picks up the phone and smiles.

>   _**Danny:** you just can't stay away can you?_

There's a pause, and then:

> _**Mindy:** i wish u were touching me now cliff_

Danny feels his stomach drop, like the entire weight of his building just came crashing down on him. _Cliff._ His eyes flicker the name over, and over, and over. He stares at the screen until he feels like he might be going cross-eyed.

"Min—" he says so faintly he's barely audible. He has to clear his throat before trying again. "Mindy?"

No response. He feels like he might be sick. Standing quickly, he moves toward his bedroom and gently pulls the doors open. Mindy's fast asleep, a look of perfect serenity over her face. He glances around her, no phone in sight. Unless she hid it somewhere—and even now in his panic he has to struggle not to think about Mindy slipping the cell into her bra—he can't see her phone anywhere.

“Shit,” he swears under his breath and pads back into the living room. He stares darkly at the phone for a long moment as though dreading the answer to an unspoken question, then dials Mindy's number and presses _Call_.  
  
\---

 When the ringtone sounds, the break room dissolves into chaos.

 “He's calling? Oh my god he's calling! What do I do? What do I do?” Morgan is on his feet, running in an erratic zig-zag and holding the phone over his head like it might explode.

“What do you mean what do you do? You don't answer it! You're not Mindy, you don't sound like her!”

“I actually have been practicing my Mindy voice, I’ll have you know it's coming along very nicely, it's very convincing actually...”

“Nope, no that is a terrible idea, there's no way—” Peter is waving at him, trying to flag him down to stand still long enough for him to snatch the phone away.

“Maybe I could just like, moan a bit you know? He'd never know it's not her? He can't know her moans yet.”

“Oh my _god_ please stop?” Peter says, grimacing.

But Morgan clicks _answer_ and in a most horrifyingly-un-Mindy-like voice says "Yeeees?"  
  
It takes all of three seconds for Danny to realize Mindy's phone is not with her in his apartment. As his own phone continued to ring, he peeked into the bedroom, waiting to hear a ringtone or see a light near Mindy. Nothing. And then, in a frighteningly deep voice, someone answers on the other end.

Danny feels sick again when he hears the greeting and feels compelled to ask "......M-Morgan?"

"….Dr. Castellano?" Morgan answers, a look of utter panic shooting across his face. Peter's eyes are like saucers, and he starts pacing manic circles around the room, repeating, "we're so screwed" in a high-pitched voice.

Morgan puts a hand over the receiver and mouths "OH MY GOD?" to Peter, to which Peter just points at Morgan and then, drawing a finger across his own neck, mouths back "You're a dead man!"

Morgan gesticulates wildly between them, suddenly shouting "This is just as much your fault as it is mine!"

On the other end of the line Danny's whisper-yelling "Wait is there someone else there? Who are you talking to!?"

"Uhhhh...." Morgan's like a deer in headlights.

"Snitches get stitches!" Peter whispers angrily, eyes wild.

"It's Mindy! Yeah, uh she was totally texting you this whole time I just stole the phone now and answered it to be funny, ha ha HA right?"

"I know Mindy's not with you Morgan."

"What? No, Dr. C she totally is—"

"I know she's not with you Morgan because she's asleep in the other room in my apartment right now!"

"...wait, wait WHAT? Is that why you're whispering?" Morgan mouths another "oh my god" and Peter gives him a questioning look.

"Dr. L is sleeping over at Danny's apartment right now."

"Did they have sex?" Peter says loud enough that Danny apparently hears him and says in an aggressive whisper "Is that Peter? No, this is strictly professional! A co-worker spending the night with another co-worker. In separate rooms. No touching whatsoever. Why am I explaining myself to you when you're the one sending out provocative messages from Mindy's phone?"

"Well Dr. C, you _are_ the one who was responding to them, so....pot, kettle."

"Shut up Morgan!" Danny is equal parts embarrassed and repulsed; the thought of him being half-hard and sexting Morgan is almost enough to send him vomiting into the nearest waste basket, so he has to sit down and brace himself against the edge of the couch.

"I think I'm dying," Danny croaks weakly. “I think I'm going to die right now.”

"Oh come on Dr. C, this is hardly anything to get so upset over; so you thought you were sexting Dr. L and really it was two of your male coworkers? What's the big deal? I'm sure we'll all laugh about this tomorrow."

"No," Danny says, his voice suddenly menacing. "We never talk about this again. Never. This never happened. Understand?"

And before Morgan can respond there's a sharp click from the other line and Danny's gone.

"He hung up on me," Morgan says sullenly.

Peter throws a cushion at his head and groans, “We're so dead.”

  
\---

 

“OH MY GOD I AM LITERALLY GOING TO KILL YOU!”

Mindy throws a clipboard at Morgan's face with the force of ten angry girl-scouts, which is surprisingly a lot because it leaves a mark on his forehead and she's too irate to apologize.

“I thought I told you to delete all the evidence!” Peter shrieks, dodging a ridiculously large pink binder clip.

“I thought I did! But apparently I was unsuccessful!”

“Why would you text Danny? Oh wait, I'm sorry, it wasn't even a harmless text it was a SEXT—” she realizes she's practically screaming in her office and the whole practice can probably hear her, so she lowers her voice to an enraged whisper and repeats, “—a sext! Why? Explain yourself before I start coming up with painfully creative ways to kill you with stethoscopes!”

Morgan glances at Peter for encouragement, but he simply shakes his head as though saying _Abandon all hope._

“Well we were going to write to Cliff you know, to jump-start things in the sex department for you guys—”

“Oh my god I'm already up to 8 different ways, talk faster.”

“...and we were looking through your contacts and saw who we assumed was Cliff?”

Mindy raises a brow, clearly confused.

“Handsome Jerk?”

Mindy feels her face burning, remembering the affectionate but outdated name she had used when she inputted Danny's number, a long running joke between her and Gwen. She'd been meaning to change it but never got around to it, or maybe if she was being honest it was just because she felt it suited him so well and didn't _actually_ want to change it at all.

“No offense Dr. L but why would you call Dr. Castellano 'Handsome Jerk'? I mean what were we supposed to think, you always talk about how hot Cliff is but how much of a dick he was to you at first?”

“You weren't supposed to think _anything_ because you weren't supposed to be going through my phone in the first place!” she snaps defensively, trying to will the flush from her cheeks. “Oh my god, how am I supposed to look at Danny after this? I'm so embarrassed, and it's your fault!”

“Well if it's any comfort Dr. L, it's not like Danny reacted badly to it?”

“...what?”

“Seriously dude?” Peter's shooting Morgan a death glare and his eye is literally twitching.

"What?" Mindy repeats, glancing back and forth between them. "What do you mean he didn't react badly?"

“I wasn't supposed to say anything but we all know I'm not very good at keeping secrets from my best friends.”

“Okay, well, we're not best friends, but continue," Mindy clarifies, gesturing between them.

“Well in the interest of full-disclosure, it wasn't just _one_ sext. It was a series of sexts which Danny responded to. Quite well, actually. You know he's sort of romantic, didn't immediately send a dick pic or anything, very chaste—”

 “I'm sorry, I stopped listening after you said it wasn't 'just one sext'. I started hearing alarm bells going off in my head and Weezer's 'Say it Ain't So' started playing. Please tell me I didn't hear you correctly.”

“No, that's right. That's what I said.”

“That's it, I'm killing you right here, right now. No one will find the body. Peter, you're helping me.” Mindy lunges forward and starts batting at Morgan's arms, which he easily deflects but simply balls up defensively and backs into a corner.

Peter smiles faintly, as though relieved to be spared Morgan's fate but Mindy notices the grin and clarifies, "Oh, no. You're absolutely next, Prentice."

 –--

After Morgan exits Mindy's office with a welt on his arm, shouting, “It's okay Dr. L, I know this is coming from a place of love!” and she screams “No it's not, you kleptomaniac!”, Danny waits for the air to clear before tentatively knocking on her door.

“Go away Morgan, I told you I don't want to 'hug the pout out', okay?”

Danny clears his throat and mumbles, “It's....uh, it's me.”

He can hear the faint sounds of Mindy scrambling around her desk, moving things and shoving papers into drawers, probably fixing her skirt or looking for a way to jump out the window before he can enter the room. It's fifty-fifty on that last one.

“Come in,” she says in a voice that doesn't quite sound like her, more nervous and shy than her usual brash “Get in here loser!”

He pushes the door open and nods sheepishly before entering. Mindy's waiting for him with a self-conscious smile, standing rodlike behind her desk.

“Uhhh....”

“Look,” he says quickly, not wanting to wait for Mindy to make small talk. “There's no avoiding this conversation so I figure it's just best we get it out of the way as quickly and painlessly as possible. Like a band-aid, right?”

She nods, somewhat startled by his honesty.

“Why did you respond to my—I mean, Morgan's—texts, anyway?”

Danny feels his face burning with embarrassment and it takes everything in his power to meet her eyes.

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry I shouldn't have asked. We should just—”

“No, no it's a reasonable question. Um, you know I was asking myself that too at first?” He almost manages a chuckle, scratching the back of his neck and sighing helplessly. “I guess I thought it was like...you know, sex chicken?”

“Sex what?”

“You know, like a game of chicken. Except with sexting. Seeing which one of us would be the first to chicken out?”

There's a look of immediate understanding, but then something that almost resembles disappointment. He's not sure what to make of it. Maybe she thinks he's saying he'd never even consider texting her like that, maybe she thinks he doesn't find her attractive?

“I mean I didn't think you—or, Morgan-as-you-You—were serious or anything,” he says quickly, trying to subtly imply that he doubted her motivations, not that it was any failing on her part.

“Oh yeah, of course, obviously,” she stammers.

“I just assumed you were, you know...messing with me. Seeing if you could get me to break first. I'm just...always so boring and predictable, I wanted to prove for once that I'm not, you know? Just boring Danny.”

“You're not boring, Danny,” Mindy says, suddenly defensive. Her eyes are bright and she's looking at him with intense interest. “And you're not 'just' anything.”

He feels something in him skip, like a stutter-step over a loose corner of carpet. He catches himself in time, before he falls, but there's the swift and immediate sense of almost losing yourself, knowing your own mistake.

“Yeah well, I'm no Cliff.”

Mindy's face flushes deeply at his mention, and Danny immediately regrets it. There's a deep pang of something he can only begrudgingly note as jealousy in him, but he won't allow himself to wallow for long.

“Anyway, I just—I wanted to make sure we were okay. That you knew that I know, that it was Morgan and Peter, that it was all a joke.”

Mindy nods, saying “Of course we're okay.”

“Good. And I'm sorry if I screwed anything up for you, but—” he's not sure how far he's willing to let himself go, how many of his cards he's willing to show. It already feels like they're on shaky ground and he's fighting a losing battle with himself.

“But I liked having you over. And even if it was a joke, it wasn't the worst game of sex-chicken I could imagine. When I thought it was you.”

And with that, he gives her a resigned smile and turns to leave, forcing himself to keep his eyes on the doorknob and his tongue in his cheek.

“You're right, you know,” Mindy says just as he reaches the door.

He pauses, glancing back at her and the soft, affectionate smile on her face. It's almost enough to make him spill all of his thoughts right there, pour everything out on the desk between them, tell her that he doesn't care if it wasn't her texting him because the truth of the matter is that he _wishes_ it was her, and that alone says it all. That alone is proof of how far gone he is with no hope of return.

“You're not Cliff,” she says, tugging at the hem of her skirt.

Danny feels his heart sink and tries not to let it show. He nods solemnly, ready to admit defeat.

“You're Danny Castellano, and I wouldn't have you be anyone else, you understand? Not Cliff, not Michael Fassbender, no one. ”

There's a moment of deliberate silence, both just watching the other with confusion and admiration, afraid to move for fear of upsetting the perfect balance between them.

Somewhere in the hallway Tamra is shouting at Morgan about not asking Betsy invasive questions, and Mindy and Danny both relax into shy laughter before he says softly, “Understood.”

“Good,” Mindy smiles, adding, “And don't forget, if you ever need a fake fiancee, I'm your girl.”

Danny laughs in embarrassment, finally tugging the door open to leave.

“I wouldn't dream of anyone else.”

And with that, Danny walks out of Mindy's office with a silent determination taking root in him. He finds Morgan and punches him on the arm, reminding him that he and Peter are absolutely dead if they ever go near anyone else's phones again. Morgan apologizes and Danny gives him a hard time, all the while feeling vaguely grateful for the most disturbing text conversation of his life, because it has removed any shadow of doubt from his mind about his feelings for the woman he until 24 hours ago would only call a friend, and now can't get out of his mind.


End file.
